Ch. 4
Ca-arl...
He won't go. They can call and call until they have no more voice to call with, and he still won't move. He paces around her like an animal protecting what belongs to it.
Which is exactly his intent.
To find them means to leave her behind, leave her to them. They would take what was left of her, and devour her until there was nothing left, not even blood for the ground to drink. With her gone, Carl would forget, and he didn't want to forget. Not her.
They weren't going to take her.
But oh how the answers beckoned him. After all, he was doing this for her. He wanted to learn and to know for her sake, to give her death meaning and then closure.
The horizon had that for her, if he would go to it.
But it was too easy. There were other ways. It wasn't instant gratification, but he didn't care for that, not for the price he had to pay. His sanity he could part with, but not her, and not to leave her to them.
Carl's heart slammed and hammered against him in a pent up fit of rage equal to the fury burning in his brain and through his blood. He hated them. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. They had everything and demanded all. But who were they to demand? What gave them the right and the power to take and give without conscience. Carl wanted none of it.
But the answers...
Screw the answers.
They were so close.
I won't pay the price.
Carl's breath is coming fast, fast as his heart pounds. His muscles twitch with the need to run.
To find the answers.
No, to tear out their damned throats!
Carl shakes with rage.
I'll rip out their throats! Rip off their heads! Let them know pain!
He wants to. He wants to so bad it's tearing him apart, and it hurts. He falls to all fours, but is not crawling. He circles his wife, head hung low, back arched. He feels like an animal, moves with the liquid grace and ease no one scrounging on their hands and knees could possess, because he's not on his hands and knees; he's on all fours. He feels so different, and it hurts him. He is fascinated by what he feels, yet frightened by it. He stops and cringes, trembling, cowering like a kicked dog.
It hurts so much...
He wants to cry out, but can only whimper, and it sounds so strange.
He smells everything, hears everything, feels everything. He looks at his wife, but she can't help him. No one can.
Help me...
Gibbering laughter slides into his ear and crawls down his back. They think this is funny.
Ca-rl. Sing-song now. Coooommme plllaaayy wiiiittthhh uussssss.
Carl glares defiantly through the pain and terror at the strip of silver horizon.
Go to hell!
NSNSNSNS
Pain of an intensity beyond anything mere words could describe. It tore through Kolchak's body like water spilling from a cracked dam, filling every inch of his being, renting him with invisible fangs as though he were nothing more than a piece of meat for starving dogs. He sucked in air until his lungs felt ready to rip, but could not release that air. His back was arched, his hands clawed at the carpet, ripping it to shreds, and his sternum creaked fit to split.
Then the pain abated, but only to a small degree – a very small degree. Carl released the pent up breath and rolled onto his side to curl into a ball, one hand wrapped around his chest, the other still clawing desperately at the carpet. He was trying to move, trying to get away. But with every centimeter he moved the pain just followed. It was in his bones, in his brain. It soaked into every cell of him until he was certain that he would soon die.
The pain abated again. Carl still shredded the carpet, gasping. Each breath wasn't enough, no matter how deep or how much. The oxygen just wouldn't take fast enough for his racing blood to carry, and his ribs wouldn't spread to the capacity that his lungs required. Each breath sent more pain tearing through him, radiating from the ribcage to the rest of his skeleton.
The pain receded another degree. The oxygen finally took, and his gasping became ragged, panting breaths. He stopped mutilating the carpet and rolled onto his chest to lay perfectly still. He shook from the remaining pain, and squeezed his eyes until tears rolled out to drip warmly down his face.
It still hurt so much.
He heard, far away, a pounding. But it wasn't his heart. He could hear his heart beating unnaturally fast, but still with a pattern. This other pounding started, then stopped; sometimes fast, sometimes exceedingly loud. And following it was another sound, muffled and garbled because of it.
A voice.
" Carl?"
It didn't sound like them. It sounded human. The pounding intensified.
" Carl! Are you in there! Hey Carl! Come on, open the door, please!"
The voice sounded terrified. Carl tried to respond, but his throat closed up. Instead, he coughed, and felt something warm and thick splatter across his lips. The warm liquid then leaked from the corner of his mouth to drip steadily onto the carpet.
The pain receded again. It was tolerable, but movement was impossible. He listened to his heart as he did before. It was going so fast that he couldn't count the beats. Could a heart beat that fast? His breathing raced just to keep up.
The pounding had stopped, and he heard another noise. Strange clicking sounds.
The pain receded even more. Carl could move. He pulled his arms to his sides, then pushed himself up with a short cry of pain. He heard a rattling sound, like someone trying a doorknob that was locked. Only it wasn't locked, not anymore, and the door flew open.
" Carl!"
Carl looked up, but the room was dark and his vision hazy. A slender form ran over to him and took him by the arm, helping him up onto his knees. Hands then grasped his shoulders to steady him. He planted one arm on the couch, and his other hand on the coffee table to keep himself from toppling forward.
" Carl?" the voice quavered, dripping with icy terror. He knew that voice.
Perri.
Carl momentarily shut his eyes. The pain receded to nothing but an ache now, and taking with it the rapidity of his heart. And the first coherent thought that popped into his mind was, weird that I didn't scream. The pain he had just miraculously endured should have had him screaming until he could no longer talk.
" Carl?"
Kolchak looked up. In the growing light of the coming day, he could see the angles of Perri's face, and the whites of her wide, frightened eyes.
He could smell her fear. It entered his lungs brief as deja vu, but he still knew it for what it was. Chemical and profound. But he was soon distracted from it by the foul taste in his mouth. He turned his head toward the table, and leaned to the side to spit a massive glob of blood onto the glass surface.
The broken glass surface, spider-webbed with cracks and a small splatter of blood. He stared at it, both curious and troubled, forgetting all else in a tiny moment.
" Oh, crap, Carl, you're bleeding," came Perri's panic-strained voice to pull him back into the here and now. He turned his head to the right, and saw a dark, wet patch soaked into his shirt along the shoulder. The pain of it, however, was lost to him in a sea of aches that were making him feel violently ill.
" Um, okay, um, wait here," Perri stammered. She rose quickly, rushing into the kitchen, only to return half a second later with a dish cloth. Carl watched her actions out of the corner of his eye without ever turning his head. Needless to say, he felt strangely detached. Not so much numb as indifferent, too exhausted and aching too much to react the way he probably should be by now; in utter panic. But, in a small way, he had been expecting this, what with the pain growing more excruciating by the day. And all he could think on the matter was that he should have made his doctor's appointment sooner.
Stupid me.
He didn't notice when, with shaking hands, Perri unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, then pulled the shirt back and down to get to his shoulder.
" Sorry," she muttered with a slight grimace. She began wiping some of the blood away, which hurt, but nothing to react over. The cut, or in fact cuts of varying minuscule sizes, extended from where the shoulder curved to the top of the shoulder blade. Perri, again grimacing, placed the cloth against these cuts. It stung. Carl took a deep breath and sighed.
He was tired of pain.
Carl dropped his head and spit more blood onto the already stained carpet. He kept his head lowered as he studied the shredded floor with morbid, troubled fascination. He had not only clawed up the carpet but had viciously scratched up the wood beneath as well. He glanced at his fingers, but the nails weren't even ripped or bloodied.
It was all too strange, and he couldn't fathom it. Neither did he want to try. He was far too tired to care, and wanted only to bask in the sweet relief of a body free of the seemingly endless torment.
He looked at Perri, numbly curious as to how she was holding up. But she wasn't looking at him, she was looking at the couch with the same wide-eyed expression of horror she had given him on entering. Carl looked as well, and blinked dazedly to see much of the couch ripped to shreds all the way to the padding sticking out like foam guts. The couch wasn't just ruined, it was mutilated, the rips deep and longer than human nails could manage.
" Carl, what happened?" Perri asked.
Everything came crashing down around Carl. The reality that had been hammering at his brain at last tore down the walls of emotionless shock to pour into him and drown him in a flash-flood of realization.
He had done that. He had ripped up the couch, the carpet. He must have rolled off the couch, onto the coffee table.
He did this. But why? How? What was happening?
Carl started shaking. " What the hell?" He snatched his arm away from the couch as though it were poison. He tried to back away from it but the coffee table prevented him from doing so, digging into his side. His vision whirled and his mind spun sickeningly.
" Carl! Hey, Carl, look at me. Look at me!" Two hands placed themselves on either side of his face and forced his head to turn so that he became locked with Perri's gaze. In her eyes, he saw her battle as she harnessed her own fright to focus on Carl.
" Carl, just keep looking at me, all right?" Her voice still had a slight crack to it. " Listen, I think – I think you might be in shock. You need to get to a hospital. I was going to call an ambulance, but if you can walk then I'll just take you there, okay? Can you stand?"
Carl swallowed back a mixture of blood and saliva. " Let me see," he mumbled in a tone so low he didn't even hear it for himself. Taking a deep, unsteady breath, he shifted to place both hands on the cracked coffee table and push himself up. Perri helped by hanging onto his arm with one hand, keeping the other pressed to the cloth against his shoulder. Slowly, he rose onto unsteady legs. At first, he wavered, swaying slightly. Then, after a moment and with another deep breath, his own body steadied itself. He felt weak, the kind of weakness born out of muscle fatigue from too much strenuous use. He could stand, but when he walked, he had to take it slow or risk falling. Perri helped by keeping a firm grip on his arm and guiding him to the door. He didn't bother with placing on a jacket or shoes, though he still had on his socks. He just made his methodical way to the door then to Perri's car while the getting was good.
Perri helped him into the passenger seat, then took his left hand and placed it on the cloth.
" Hold it there," she commanded, and hurried around to the drivers side.
Carl stared blankly out the windshield, out beyond hi home to the empty and wild places. He could smell the sand, and the morning moisture dewing on shrubs and gnarled trees.
What's happening to me?
NSNSNSNS
So much for the appointment.
Life was being decidedly ironic to Carl. The day he was finally going in to see what was wrong with him and the worst finally hit, forcing him to do what he had been trying to avoid; a visit to the emergency room.
It was as though the hospital, by some unknown will of its own, had been expecting him. There was hardly anyone in the waiting room. Only five minutes passed before Carl was called in. Only three of the cuts needed stitches and a bandage, the rest had already clotted. And to Carl's lack of surprise, he had bitten his tongue and the inside of his cheek again, which there was little the doctor could do for. Carl's blood pressure was taken, his heart and lungs listened to, all the normal, everyday checkup routines. The only oddity beyond the cuts were misshapen bruises patching his body, dark but not painful.
Then came the tricky part; explaining what had just occurred and been occurring for the past few days. He did it to the best of his ability, but left out the dreams. Those he did not want to explain, not to this stranger.
Carl – redressed - was sitting on the exam table as he talked, and the doctor in a swivel chair, leaning forward with rapt, undivided attention. He was a dark-haired man several years older than Carl, with a lined face that made him seem even older. Every so often, the doctor would jot something down on a clipboard, but nod for Carl to continue.
When Carl finished, the doctor said nothing. But the slightly confused look on the man's face was starting to get Carl worried.
" Well, seizures might explain the bruising. And you say you've never had a history of seizures?" he finally asked.
" Yeah, right. Never."
" What about previous episodes of sleep apnea? Does it run in your family?"
Carl shrugged. " Not really. It started with the, um, seizures."
The doctor nodded with a bemused expression still lined with confusion. " Okay, I'll just say it outright. It sounds strange. But, for all we know, you may have had an existing condition that may have been lying dormant until now. It happens. Have you been under a lot of stress?"
" No, not more than usual."
Again, the doctor nodded. " Well, I'll tell you this much. You're showing signs of anemia. But since your seizures seem more the cause of it than the other way around..." the doctor sighed. " Maybe a scan might reveal something, if it's head related."
Oh, it's head related all right, Carl thought.
" Maybe take some blood, see if some sort of infection is involved. And I think you should stay overnight for observational purposes."
Carl's heart plummeted, and he shifted uncomfortably. But he wasn't about to let some baseless sense of unease dictate his decisions.
He nodded. " Yeah, fine. Whatever it takes to get this to stop."
NSNSNSNS
Carl entered the waiting room with its rows of night-blue plastic chairs bolted to the floor, baskets full of used and dog-eared magazines, the front desk with phones forever ringing and computers softly humming (Carl found it unsettling that he could hear them so clearly), and people moving in and out of doors and corridors. A young female doctor brushed past Carl, and beneath her mild perfume he scented rubbing alcohol, rubber from exam gloves, and the faintest underlining taint of blood. He turned his head away in sickened malaise and swallowed nervously. The regular smells of the hospital wafted in and out mixed with deeper, more minute smells human senses shouldn't have been able to pick up. Plastics, paper, chemicals, various metals, liquids, and of course blood. They drifted like a pulsing wave through Carl's awareness, as though a periodic breeze were carrying them in then out again.
It was making Carl's heart start to pound again, and his skin prickle.
He ignored the smells as best he could, and searched the waiting room. Perri had spotted him first and had already stood wearing an expression of worried anticipation. Carl approached her, walking carefully across the checkered linoleum floor. He still didn't have any shoes.
" Well?" she asked, spreading her hands. " Verdict?"
" I'm going to stay over night," he said. Perri jerked her head back in surprise.
" That all?"
" They want to do some scans, blood tests. The overnight deal is for observations."
" And you're okay with it?" she asked.
Carl stared at her for a moment as he processed his own feelings and thoughts on the matter. No, he wasn't okay with it. In fact, he dreaded it, and yet couldn't even explain to himself why. Perhaps it was the smells of the hospital, or that he would be more trapped in a hospital than his own home. But trapped by what? Where was the danger that his brain kept registering everywhere?
He finally shrugged." What else can I do?"
Perri looked ready to say something, and apparently wanted to, but the words must have kept eluding her.
She looks scared, Carl thought, and caught the faint, chemical oder of fear on the unfelt breeze. Scared for me? Carl was a little taken back by it. Of course she would be spooked after coming in and seeing him spitting blood and unable to move. And though Carl considered her a friend, a part of him had always held the small belief that Perri put up with him more because she had to than because she returned the sentiment. It was an unfair assessment, he knew, but easily maintained since it was what he was used to. He tended to generate more dislike among his fellow man than like.
It had been a while since anyone had shown him genuine concern, and Perri's was too genuine to call it anything else. It brought about in him mixed feelings of gratitude, as well as guilt, and left him just as speechless as her.
" Thanks for bringing me," he said at last to break the stifling silence.
Perri flashed him a wan smile. " Faster than waiting for an ambulance."
" Just out of curiosity, what brought you over to begin with?"
Perri shrugged uncomfortably. " Aw, well, you know. After yesterday I was a little worried and..." she shrugged again, " thought I'd check in on you. I know, it sounds a little fruity..."
Carl shook his head. " No, it doesn't."
" Yeah, well, it does to me, sorry. But, hey, you stayed with me when we thought that hypnotist freak was going to send me on a killing rampage. It's only fair that I return the favor."
A shiver went up Carl's back. Carl had almost been the one to kill her, not the other way around, and it still disgusted him what almost happened. There was no favor for Perri to return.
Guess she does like me, Carl thought; a little in humor, a little out of more guilt.
" How did you get in?" he asked next.
Perri gritted her teeth in a small wince. " I kind of picked the lock. Not a talent I'm proud of, but if comes in handy when you forget your keys or – you know – need to make an emergency entrance."
Carl grinned at this.
" I need another favor," he said.
" Yeah?"
" A ride home to get some stuff. I'm not going to spend the night here in a hospital gown." He looked ponderously down at his sock-covered feet. " And I need some shoes."